


call my bluff (call you babe)

by LizMikaelson, saltziepark



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, everyone is over eighteen because consent is important but sex is also important, how many board games can alex name in a chapter?, i definitely browsed my games shelf while writing this, jade and lizzie are trivia champions and that is the headcanon i will die on, oblivious idiots in love, shoulda made them play pandemic but that felt a bit too on the nose, which is kind of messy and squishy when its your best friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:15:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25415272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizMikaelson/pseuds/LizMikaelson, https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltziepark/pseuds/saltziepark
Summary: Hope Mikaelson and Josie Saltzman are best friends - have been for nearly a decade, even. So, one night after an incident with a troll and too many bottles of wine, they kiss, which leads to something more. And maybe they're just friends who may or may not have slept together for the first time. Because that's totally normal best friend behavior. Or maybe they aren't.Hope and Josie are in love. It's obvious, everybody knows it. They - don't.
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson & Josie Saltzman, Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman, Jade & Lizzie Saltzman, Jade/Lizzie Saltzman
Comments: 70
Kudos: 424





	1. Chapter 1

The first time it happens, it’s an accident. Or well, not an accident. But it’s not like they were planning it.

It happens on the day when the troll attacks. Josie’s looking out the window, watching Hope on the grounds, ducking one blow after another. 

Malivore's still open and monsters keep seeping through, and until they have a remedy that isn’t Hope, that’s just how it’s going to be. Next to her, Alicia — Josie’s favorite student by far, not just because she’s Pedro’s cousin — points at the spectacle. “Should we help her?”

“Hope’ll be fine,” Josie replies. Hope hadn’t even looked strained. And Josie is backup, definitely not the first line of defense. She’s gotten better at keeping her magic under control, but there’s no point in taking unnecessary risks. Especially when Hope has it handled. Like she does now. 

“Do you like her?” Alicia asks. “Miss Mikaelson?”

Josie shakes her head at the question, but schools her face because she knows a smile is on her lips. “Of course I do. She’s my best friend.” Alicia looks for a moment like she’s about to say something but then she just grins in a way that’s very reminiscent of Pedro and returns to her seat. 

“Back to the topic at hand,” Josie continues, gaze back on the class of twenty young witches, “healing salves.”

Later, Hope collapses onto Josie’s couch, complaining about her too long day spent fighting a stupid troll and shepherding students, and Josie’s fingers run through her hair, the sounds of a terrible 90’s movie playing in the background. Josie gets up then, moving to the kitchen of her small Mystic Falls apartment, grabbing a bottle of red wine as Hope buries herself deeper into the couch. She had changed when she had gotten to Josie’s apartment because being covered in troll drool wasn’t the way she had wanted to spend her Thursday night. As Josie looks out into the living room at Hope clutching a throw pillow to her chest, her hair freshly washed and falling in waves, one of Josie’s favorite sweaters and sleep shorts on her body, Josie feels her heart skips a beat. 

It’s just — she’s been best friends with Hope for years. Nearly a decade now that they’re older and their awkward teenage years are behind them. But, the playful banter, the flirting and innuendo that is sometimes laced in the way that Hope and Josie interact, much to the chagrin of Lizzie, Jade, and M.G., that’s _definitely_ new. It’s unsurprising how easy it came to them, but being with Hope, being around Hope, has always felt easy. Like missing puzzle pieces falling into place. 

This is just another one of them. 

It all started with Lizzie (because doesn’t everything start and end with Lizzie Saltzman?) who enjoyed pointing out that Hope would stay over some nights because Josie’s place was closer to the school, that she would find excuses to steal Josie’s clothing or food, and then it progressed to more invasive statements and questions — “She slept over again? Was she drunk? Were you drunk?” “Whose shirt is that?” “Why did you give her your fries?” “Are you sure you aren’t dating? It seems like you’re dating.” 

And then once Lizzie started making comments in public and particularly during trivia night at the bar, Jade and M.G. joined in. It made Josie’s heart race at the words, afraid of Hope’s reaction, but a glance to Hope showed that the tribrid was wearing a smirk behind her old fashioned, an arm slung out behind Josie in the booth, their sides pressed against each other. 

Hope’s always run warm and Josie just fits in nicely next to her, so it’s not her fault that they sit so close to each other all the time (and it was a small booth, after all). And it’s definitely not her fault when Hope runs her thumb along the side of Josie’s mouth, commenting that she had a stray line of lipstick smudged. If Josie feels her blood rush to her core at the feeling, she really hopes that her poker face is intact because lingering touches from Hope that made Josie feel like she could jump her bones in the next second? Yeah, that was new. 

And she’s never really been bothered by it. It would be an honor, really, to be able to date Hope Mikaelson.

Hope’s strong and caring and loyal and passionate and gives of herself until she has nothing left. She’s too good for Josie, for anyone, really. And just the thought of dating her sends Josie into such a downward spiral of thoughts and feelings that she shoves them deep into her mind, out of her heart. But then Hope starts playing along and whatever fragile self-control that Josie thought she had is gone in a flash because she’s not going to let Hope beat her at this. 

So as time went on, Josie decided somewhere along the way that she wanted to play along with the comments. She flirted shamelessly with Hope any chance she could whenever the group was around (and sometimes, whenever the group _wasn’t_ around). It made Hope quirk up an eyebrow, at first, but then she would dissolve into laughter which would make Josie laugh, especially at the disgusted looks on Lizzie and Jade’s faces. They were probably just jealous because they had been together for so long that they had forgotten what a fun, friendly flirtation looks like. 

That’s it. Friends flirt. And Josie's absolutely allowed to flirt with Hope, especially because it makes her laugh, and god knows Hope can do with some joy in her life. 

The thing is, Hope's always been _so_ unreadable, her mask always in place.

So, when Josie brings back two wine glasses nearly full to the brim with her favorite merlot, who can blame her when she leans down to place the glass on the coffee table, her tanktop hanging dangerously low to show off her nonexistent bra? Hope looks away momentarily from the television and Josie can see the moment that her eyes dip from Josie’s face, to her lips, down to her chest, before speeding back up again, leaning forward to grab the glass and taking a large sip. 

“Are you staying over tonight then?” Josie asks as she grabs her own glass, sitting next to Hope with an arm over the back of the couch. So what if their thighs touch, it's Josie’s couch. She can sit wherever she wants, preferably right next to Hope. “I didn’t want to assume since you are wearing _my_ clothes —” 

Hope rolls her eyes, but there’s a grin on her face. “I’m not moving.”

“Good thing there’s another bottle in the kitchen,” Josie replies, a warm smile on her face. 

“You’re too good to me.” 

So they drink and complain about work and their students and it's nice and comforting and Josie feels like she always has a bubble of happiness in her chest when she thinks about Hope.

But it could just be the wine. It’s definitely, probably the wine. Because it's nearly midnight and they’ve gone through two bottles of wine and Josie's definitely tipsy. Hovering on the edge of drunk.

Hope must be feeling the same, even though her tribrid metabolism meant that she could drink so much more than Josie, but that last bottle had basically been all her. Josie’s eyes are heavy-lidded as she watches Hope, her sharp lines muted. 

Something about this moment, about Hope on her couch, and the glow of the wine all around them makes Josie want to kiss Hope. 

Which, isn’t really a new thought. Josie’s thought about it before. Usually when she’s drunk, kind of like she is now. She just never lingers on it, letting the thought fly in and out of her brain like an erratic butterfly. She just normally doesn’t do anything about it. But tonight, Hope’s lips look really soft and she’s laughing and her eyes are glittering and Josie’s impulse control when she’s drunk kind of sucks, so she leans over to kiss Hope. 

It wouldn’t be a problem. Josie can drunkenly kiss her friend and tomorrow, Hope could tease her about a decades-old crush, and then they’d forget about it.

The problem is this: Hope kisses her back.

It’s messy and uncoordinated and Josie nearly pulls away but then Hope’s smiling against Josie’s face, their noses brushing, bringing her hand to the back of Josie’s neck to pull her in and Josie feels warm, soft lips against hers. She has to be drunk because there isn’t a world in which Hope Mikaelson kisses her back like this, breathing her in and clutching at her waist. Not just clutching, no, Hope pulls Josie into her lap and the siphon can’t help but moan into the feeling, her arms latching around Hope’s neck. Hope runs her hands along Josie’s hips, touching the exposed skin as her tank top has ridden up and fuck, this is all kinds of new and all kinds of amazing. 

Hope’s fingers slide over her sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake, down her shorts, and over her thighs, and Josie cups Hope’s face with her hands and pulls her impossibly closer. Hope’s hands move higher, gripping at the small of Josie’s back, pressing them impossibly close together and Josie has never marveled at how soft and strong Hope’s hands are, but feeling them ghost over her body leaving trails of heat in their wake, she realizes she should really be paying more attention to them. A lot more attention to them. 

Hope parts her lips and that’s enough invitation for Josie as she licks into Hope’s mouth, can’t help but smile at the moan that escapes Hope’s throat at the feeling. They stay like this for minutes, hours, forever, as Josie scratches at the base of Hope’s neck, fingers moving through waves of long curls, resisting the urge to grind herself in Hope’s lap even though she knows she’s breathing hard, the air around them is charged, and she wouldn’t be surprised if her home decor and television were levitating behind her with the way Hope’s touches are sending shocks of electricity through her skin. She feels drunk on something stronger than wine. On Hope and her fingers across Josie’s skin. 

“I could do this all night,” Josie breathes, between kisses and Hope just opens her mouth even further, welcoming Josie’s tongue and pushing back against her slightly. 

“Bed?” Hope suggests, her hands sliding lower, over Josie’s thighs, settling on her ass. She should be nervous, terrified, even at the prospect of whatever this is with Hope progressing into whatever is going to happen in her bedroom, but while her heart is hammering in her ears and her throat is suddenly dry, she can’t honestly say she would pass this up. 

Because maybe she has thought about kissing her best friend too many times to count. Maybe she’s thought about it late at night when she can’t sleep and when her hand somehow finds its way down her shorts and into her panties. Maybe she thinks a lot about what might happen if Hope was underneath her, writhing in pleasure and want from something that Josie was doing. 

Josie finds herself nodding, unable to free her lips from Hope’s to utter a single word because she is so incredibly turned on and shouldn’t be surprised when Hope stands up, her hands underneath Josie’s ass if this was the easiest thing for her to do.

Fuck, they’re really doing this, aren’t they?

Hope backs her up against the wall of her hallway and Josie’s head slams against it, but she doesn’t care as Hope breaks the kiss to pepper kisses against Josie’s jaw, chin, neck, their moans echoing throughout the small apartment. 

Hope pulls Josie’s tank top up and over her head, tossing it behind her, leaving Josie in a pair of Salvatore gym shorts that are definitely from their days at school and might have been just a touch too short to wear with your best friend. 

Okay, this is a normal best friend thing to do. Undress each other. And this— this is really, really turning Josie on way more than it should as she watches Hope’s expression change. Her pupils dilate and she opens her mouth, almost in awe. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Hope breathes, looking down at Josie’s chest and back up. They’re not eye-level at this height — with Josie’s head just higher than Hope’s but all Josie has to do is lean down slightly to capture Hope’s lips again, drinking in her words. 

“I thought you were taking me to bed,” Josie teases, arms still around Hope’s neck, scratching at her scalp. She can see how much Hope's affected and she’s honestly faring no better. Her panties are no doubt soaked and they’re still in her hallway, mostly dressed as the television plays an episode of Love Island that Josie had forgotten they were watching. 

“I was — I am — don’t rush me,” Hope replies and Josie grins. 

“My apologies, Miss Mikaelson,” she teases, her voice punctuated by a moan as Hope bites down on her neck. She wants Hope to mark her, she realizes, as her own. Imagines herself with marks all over her chest, stomach, and thighs, all from Hope. She wants it — needs it to become a reality. 

Hope shuts her up with a hand on her chest, palming her breast and rolling Josie’s nipple between her thumb and forefinger in a way that has Josie moaning far too loudly for the small space that they’re existing in. She doesn’t know how Hope is holding up her up and fondling her so spectacularly while kissing her in a way and with a skill that takes Josie’s breath away, but she prays she doesn’t stop. She doesn’t want to think about how they could have been doing this for years because her body feels like it's on fire and Hope is the match, the flame, the gasoline.

She should be nervous, but she isn't. This isn’t like other hookups. Hope has seen her in various states of undress over the years, and Josie knows that no matter what happens, she’ll be here in the morning. There’s not really any reason to be nervous, right?

Hope's controlling the pace which is fine by Josie as she pulls them away from the wall, walking Josie toward her bedroom, directing her to her bed in the dim glow from the lamp on Josie’s bedside table. Thank god for wolf strength, Josie thinks as she falls onto her mattress with a sigh and then Hope is there, is everywhere, really, falling into her, straddling her thighs and this is such a new view, but Josie realizes its one of the best she’s seen as Hope kneels over her, pulling off the sweater of Josie’s that she had pulled on earlier. Josie feels dizzy at the sight, Hope’s chest bare and her hair tousled and fuck, they’re really actually doing this. 

Before she can give a name to the thousands of feelings welling up at the sight, Josie brings their mouths together again and the kiss is dirtier, wetter, her tongue driving into Hope’s mouth. Hope’s hands rub all along Josie’s hips and up her stomach to her chest as Josie grasps at Hope’s back, nails scratching lines into inches of soft, soft skin. Hope moves her lips down to her neck once again, biting and sucking at Josie’s pulse point and yeah, that’s definitely gonna leave a mark, but Josie doesn’t care because Hope is touching her, her fingers dancing along her skin like the warm caresses from a lit flame. 

“I’m so wet for you,” Josie finds herself saying, her voice low and raspy, right next to Hope’s ears, biting and pulling at her earlobe. And maybe she shouldn’t have voiced it out loud because it just sits there between them and she can’t see Hope’s eyes or her face but maybe it’s better this way? 

“God, Josie,” Hope whispers along her neck and it’s reverent, nearly breathless, her tongue charting a path up and down Josie’s throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses and occasional bites with her teeth. “You feel so good under me.”

“Yeah?” Josie questions, her hands back in Hope’s hair, scratching at her scalp and pulling Hope upwards. She takes a moment to watch Hope, blue eyes meeting her own and they’re shining with desire and something else swirling in them. Something Josie can’t name, but it’s there, beneath the heat and the passion. 

“Yes, so good,” Hope says as they kiss again and it's all teeth and tongue. Josie whimpers into the kiss, turning it into a moan because she's so worked up and she never thought that Hope would be a tease, but her hands are nowhere near where she needs them to be. 

As if she reads her thoughts, Hope ducks her head, nipping at Josie’s neck, muttering how much she likes Josie likes this, underneath her hands and her mouth, before her lips ghost over Josie’s collarbone. She takes one of Josie’s nipples into her mouth, biting softly at the hardened nub and the sensation washes over Josie because this is agonizing and she feels amazing, nearly coming undone from Hope’s mouth alone. 

Hope takes her time, licking and biting at one of Josie’s nipples and then the other, her free hand palming the breast that her mouth isn’t on. It’s too much and not enough because Hope Mikaelson is a tease, Josie realizes, knowing that she's driving Josie crazy with every flick of her tongue and every twist of her fingers. 

Hope’s mouth begins to move south as Josie writhes under her touch, arching her back. Hope palms both of Josie’s breasts now, kissing the skin on Josie’s stomach and biting at her hip bones and a litany of _fuck, fuck, fuck_ comes out of Josie’s mouth because Hope is _so_ close to where she needs her to be. 

Josie, whose eyes had been closed at Hope’s ministrations, looks down and the sight nearly takes her breath away. Hope is watching her, her mouth hovering above the waistband of Josie’s shorts as she pulls the elastic material down, taking Josie’s soaked panties with her teeth as she tugs. Josie lifts her ass to help Hope pull the shorts down her legs and they disappear somewhere onto her floor.

Josie’s naked. With Hope. In her bed. About to have sex. This is normal. Totally, totally a normal thing to do with your best friend, right? 

Josie glances up at Hope who is kneeling over her once more, a hand on either side of Josie’s bent knees, pushing them down to spread Josie wider. Josie can smell herself and should feel embarrassed, ashamed because she’s sure she’s dripping onto the bed, but Hope just watches her with a smile. She drags her nails up and down Josie’s legs, from her ankles to her calves and thighs, scratching lightly and Josie can’t help but cant her hips up with the sensation as Hope settles between her legs. Hope’s warm breath skates over her center and god, that feels so good, but it’s not enough. Definitely not enough. 

“Hope, please—” she begs, her voice broken, watching Hope, her blue eyes searing holes into Josie’s, nearly black with how blown her pupils are. Her chest is heaving and Josie wonders just how affected she is but then her mouth disappears as she licks a long line from the top of Josie’s core to the bottom and then back up. Josie’s eyes widen before she lets out a strangled, moan her head throwing back, mouth open, and back arching on the mattress. Her hand finds its way to Hope’s head, directing her more fully as she grinds into the tribrid’s mouth, her legs spread as wide as she can because she wants to feel all of this, doesn’t know if this will ever happen again with Hope. 

Hope slips one finger inside of Josie as a sort of experiment and Josie takes it far too easily because she's so fucking wet, soaking, and Hope adds a second, her tongue circling Josie’s soaking clit as she slowly moves in and out. 

“Hope, fuck,” Josie says hoarsely, “—harder, more, please, Hope.”

“You’re so sexy, Jo,” Hope replies, a third finger slipping in and curling, increasing her pace. And good god, Hope’s really, really good at eating her out, Josie thinks, as she moans loudly, wantonly, her breasts bouncing and chest heaving as she rides Hope’s face. She feels Hope’s tongue moving around her clit, her fingers pushing in and out of her with a relentless pace and she shouldn’t be surprised because Hope is amazing at everything and why shouldn’t it be any different if its sex? 

Hope switches between broad stroke and fast circles on Josie’s clit. Josie’s breathing quickens and her grasp on Hope’s head, nails on her scalp, tightens and Josie thinks that she never wants this moment to end. “Fuck,” falls from Josie’s lips, “fuck, babe,” and Hope quickens her movements and feels Josie’s body rock against her even faster. 

Josie feels her orgasm building as her breathing gets more and more broken, Hope’s name leaving her mouth in both a curse and a prayer, the waves of pleasure rocking her body. Hope doesn’t stop as Josie’s mind goes blissfully blank, just slows down as she guides Josie’s hips down with her free hand, letting her ride out her orgasm. She pulls Hope back up to her mouth, her breathing almost returned to normal and kisses her deeply, tasting herself on Hope’s lips. She moans again at the sensation and they kiss for a while, languid kisses and pecks that are too sweet, too comfortable for what they just did, until Hope goes to slide off of her, but Josie holds her in place. 

“Hold onto the headboard,” Josie says, brown eyes meeting blue and the understanding washes over Hope. “And sit on my face,” she finishes. Josie sees Hope’s reaction to the offer as her face warms, and did Josie just make Hope blush? That was a first. 

Hope does as she’s told, sliding out of her shorts before settling over Josie, who moves her hands up and down Hope’s stomach and chest, massaging and grabbing at Hope’s breasts. She pinches Hope’s nipples between her fingers, tugging and pulling as Hope hovers over Josie’s mouth, her knees on either side of Josie’s head. Josie plays with Hope’s breasts, palming the hardened nubs, hisses and moans dripping out of Hope’s lips.

“Oh, fuck,” Hope breathes, grinding into the air at Josie’s touch and Josie smiles, before pulling Hope’s hips down a bit lower. She palms Hope’s ass with her hands as her tongue licks from Hope’s thigh to her center and Hope lets out another curse, hands grabbing at the headboard to keep herself above Josie. "Oh, my god, Jo, keep going." As if Josie could stop after hearing that. 

Hope’s breathing hitches when Josie moves her tongue in broad strokes, accelerates when she draws intricate patterns, and Josie grips the soft flesh of Hope’s thighs, pulls her down even closer, and listens to the way Hope moans, breathlessly. Josie leaves one hand on Hope’s hips and the other reaches up to plunge into Hope, corkscrewing one finger in and then another. She hears, tastes, and smells Hope’s arousal all around her and nearly gets distracted because she was so intoxicated by everything about Hope, wants to make her feel as good she had made Josie feel. The noise of her fingers sliding in and out of Hope, Hope’s breathing and Josie’s licking fills the air and it’s so sexy. Josie feels herself growing wetter at the sounds. 

Hope’s hands palm and grab at her own breasts, twisting a nipple, before one drops down to pull on Josie’s hair, to pull her into her more fully, eliciting a loud moan from Josie and Hope arches an eyebrow because this is all about getting Hope off but if she keeps scratching at the back of Josie’s head, sending shivers up and down Josie’s spine, she might have to go for round two. 

Hope’s eyes open and she glances down at Josie, who is watching her - every reaction, every movement of Hope’s body as she grinds on Josie’s mouth and she’s fucking breathtaking like this. She’s breathtaking as her chest rises as falls, as she chants _yes, yes yes_ over and over as Josie swirls her tongue around and plunges her fingers in deeply, curling them. 

She can feel Hope’s orgasm building, Hope’s slick, hot walls forcing her fingers out and Hope’s moans growing louder and louder. Josie vaguely registers the sound of wood cracking underneath Hope’s hands but she doesn’t care as the tribrid’s thighs clench and shake around her head as Josie fucks her. 

“I’m so close, baby—so fucking close. Fuck, Jo,” Hope breathes, falling to pieces as she comes all over Josie’s mouth, riding Josie’s face, her hips bucking back and forth as fast as she can. Josie doesn’t stop until she hears a strangled curse on Hope’s lips and the hand on her hair tries to still her head.

Hope moves so she doesn’t suffocate Josie, dropping next to her on the bed with slickness dripping down her thighs, her chest still heaving. 

“That was —,” Hope begins with a laugh and Josie swiftly kisses the smile off of her face, her own chin slick and wet with the scent of Hope all around her. “That— that was good — really good,” Hope mutters, her voice delightful raspy after the moans that Josie had been eliciting out of her. 

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” Josie replies, kissing Hope again to just to make sure, afraid that the warmth that was in her chest before she had kissed Hope would be stamped out, but it feels like a fire, in her heart and in her core, lit and brought to life under Hope’s hands. 

Josie can’t really blame the cuddling that comes afterward, when she buries her head under Hope’s neck, an arm slung across Hope’s stomach. Hope’s breathing returns to normal faster than most and she flings an arm over her eyes as Josie settles in next to her.

Friends cuddle naked like this, right? Because that’s all they are. Friends. Best friends even. 

Friends who may or may not have just fucked for the first time. This was totally, _totally_ normal best friend behavior. Yep, definitely. 


	2. Chapter 2

When Josie hears her alarm the next morning, it takes her a moment to realize that she’s naked. 

Waking up in bed with Hope is normal. 

Waking up naked in bed with Hope is _new_. 

Is it too early for panic? It’s definitely not too early to panic, she decides a second later, slamming the off button on her alarm. Next to her, Hope stretches sleepily. And god, she knows Hope runs warm because she could feel it through her clothes all of these years, but waking up to a Hope that is curled into her back, bare skin to bare skin, is like being wrapped all around with a heater. A sexy heater. 

“Please tell me that wasn’t the alarm,” Hope says, and her voice sounds kind of throaty and raw. It always does in the morning. But today, it sends a shiver straight down Josie’s back, the memories of last night flooding back with renewed intensity. Hope’s hands skate over Josie’s stomach, grabbing and pulling her a bit closer to her, palming one of her hips.

“It was,” she says, and tries to sound calm because waking up in bed naked with Hope was one thing, but waking up in bed naked with Hope and her very eager body clearly ready to go for round two was _not_ how this was supposed to go. 

Hope groans before sitting up, her hand covering her eyes. The sheet slides down her body, and she has _very_ nice breasts. Josie turns over on her side, watching Hope and Josie’s definitely noticed Hope’s breasts before, she’s not blind, but it’s different now. Very different. “Why do we need jobs?” Hope mutters.

Josie’s not going to point out that Hope, in fact, does not need a job. She could easily never work for the rest of her life and she would still be ridiculously well-off. But there’s no way she’s facing Lizzie this morning alone. Her sister switches between absolute obliviousness and over-the-top perceptiveness. If she takes one look at Josie and knows that she had sex with Hope, she needs somewhere to hide. Because Salvatore may be a big school but it isn’t _that_ big. Maybe she could just hide out in Hope’s office. 

It doesn’t matter much, because Hope climbs out of bed and walks towards the bathroom. She turns around before she reaches the door, hand on the doorframe, and she’s still so very naked. God, she’s gorgeous. 

Josie sits up slightly, the sheet wrapped around her falling as Hope looks at her. If she’s affected by the sight, she keeps it to herself. “We should have done this earlier,” she says, and she’s smiling in a very cute way that has Josie thinking about kissing her. Again. 

A second later, she’s disappeared into the bathroom and Josie collapses back into the pillows. So Hope’s not freaking out. Fine. Then Josie won’t freak out, either. She’ll just get up and make breakfast and shower and go to work. 

She tries not to think about Hope in the shower (her shower) as she makes them coffee (tries but fails miserably), toasting a few pieces of bread (burning a couple that Hope doesn’t need to know about) and putting jam, butter, and Nutella on her dining room table, knowing Hope would opt for the latter, despite the fact that she always tried to hide her sweet tooth. 

Hope joins her just as she’s finished her breakfast and Josie inhales sharply because she came out of nowhere and Josie may or may not have been daydreaming about what they had done last night, a hand on her hip as she drank her coffee at the counter. She takes too large of a sip of coffee and it burns down her throat as Hope, dressed in her clothes from yesterday, all clean thanks to some domestic magic, sits down at the table. Her hair is still wet, dripping a line down her shirt and Josie finds herself following the water droplet with her eyes. 

“Good — you’re — you’re clean — not that you were dirty — well, good,” Josie stammers at Hope, internally facepalming because this was so not playing it cool. Josie groans, face flushing instantly but Hope just smiles at her, picking up the mug of Josie’s that she always used. It had a little wolf on the ceramic, with the words AH-WOOO all around the bottom. Hope begrudgingly used it every time she was here. 

“I’m just gonna —,” Josie begins, backing out of her kitchen and nearly running to the bathroom, closing the door with a slam. If she isn’t in the same room as Hope, they don’t have to talk about it, right? Right. 

Josie lingers in the shower, taking her time and when she gets out and swipes a hand over the mirror to clear the glass, she sees marks all along her neck and breasts from Hope. The sight of them shouldn’t make her heart race as much as it does, but Josie feels breathless looking at them, traces her fingers over every single one of them. Nope, nope. Do not fantasize about your best friend covering you with more of those, Josie. You were drunk, she was drunk. It’s never gonna happen again. 

So, why did Hope say that they should have done it sooner?

Hope’s gone by the time Josie’s dressed and halfway decent, which was nothing new. It takes Josie about ten seconds to find the hastily scrawled note by the jam — _Your dad clearly doesn’t believe in sleeping in, even on a Friday. See you at school, H_ — and she saves it in the drawer by the cutlery that has all of Hope’s notes over the years. Because that’s normal. 

She doesn’t see Hope at school. She and Dad have already disappeared for some mission by the time Josie gets there, and for no reason at all, she spends the school day totally distracted. She assigns homework twice to the second graders and doesn’t hear a word of what Lizzie’s saying at lunch. She blames it on the hangover that she doesn’t have, but she’s thinking. She’s unable to stop thinking if she’s being honest. 

Lizzie looks her for a moment, mouth agape and salad hanging off of her fork that threatens to fall back onto her plate. Josie sees the moment her eyes narrow, but thankfully Lizzie doesn’t comment on the fact that it’s October and still plenty warm out and Josie is in a collared shirt and a sweater. Doesn’t comment on the way Josie’s eyes are flashing around the room looking for the familiar head of auburn curls. 

“What are you up to tonight?” Lizzie asks instead, and Josie breathes a sigh of relief because this is safe territory. Everyone who knew Hope and Josie knew their Friday night plans — are those still on — do they need to — fuck, Josie has no idea — 

Her phone saves her with a text from Hope: _We’re running late, can I meet you directly at the Grill tonight?_

“I’m having dinner with Hope,” Josie says and breathes a sigh of silent relief because at least this was still normal, untouched by what they did. 

It’s not until after lunch that she sees the second text: _If tonight is still good for you??_

Josie smiles down at her phone. Two question marks are the first indication that Hope is in any way affected by everything that happened last night, and it makes Josie feel at least a little bit calmer. She shoots back a text saying that she wouldn’t miss tonight for the world, accompanied by a few emojis in an attempt to make her words less wistful and romantic. She’s not sure it works. 

She’s waiting for Hope in their favorite booth at the Grill later that night, scrolling through her phone because Lizzie was having some sort of existential crisis while Jade was cooking her dinner. If they weren’t absolutely perfect for each other — matching snark and sass with equal parts devotion — Josie would be more worried, but they’re fine. Lizzie was just being Lizzie. Her relationship woes usually meant that Jade had left a bag of blood on the counter rather than in the trash (where it belonged), whereas the last time that Josie had dated someone, _really_ dated someone, her heart had been shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. It was all about perspective, really. 

“Is Lizzie complaining about the beef bolognese to you as well?” Hope asks dryly, sliding into the booth across from Josie, pulling off her leather jacket to throw over the back of the wooden seat. She runs a hand through her hair and it’s almost painful how gorgeous she was sometimes. In an effortless, infuriating kind of way. Josie nearly forgets Hope’s question as she looks at her. 

“Yeah, she’s afraid that Jade isn’t going to cook the meat all the way through because of her desire to keep it rare and more ‘life-like,’” Josie responds with air quotes, tossing her phone onto the seat next to her. “Hi.”

“Hi back,” Hope smiles and honestly, she really was a sight for Josie’s sore eyes. Not that she hadn’t seen Hope less than twenty-four hours before, on top of her, in her bed. 

But now, after everything, Josie can’t help but beam. Hope looked devastatingly pretty, despite the slight evidence of tired eyes under makeup. Hope’s eyes dip to the collar of Josie’s sweater and her eyebrow raises, which Josie merely tilts her head at, refusing to give an inch. Yes, the hickies were still there, hidden under cashmere and cotton. No, they weren’t going to talk about them. 

“I didn’t mean to —,” Hope begins, right as Josie starts to say, “So a monster —,” and Josie looks down at her hands in her lap, smiling and biting her lip. She glances back up at Hope who has her elbow on the table, hand over her mouth as she watches Josie. 

“Your dad has always had very bad timing, I think,” Hope settles on, when Josie makes no move to continue her thought. “It was a stupid mermaid again. Well, a merman, that had come out of the lake demanding to speak to me and offer some protection spell that was actually just a conch shell with no magic whatsoever. Or, you know, no magic Dorian could find. I don’t know. Tell me about your day.” 

It’s all too easy, it’s always too easy with Hope. Josie starts talking about her day, and Hope rolls her eyes at Lizzie and commiserates with her about the fifth-graders constantly playing pranks. It feels normal, like nothing ever happened. It’s nerve-wracking and calming and Josie feels like a mess by the time her food arrives. 

They’re skirting around the _obvious,_ which is smart, because this is not a conversation for the busiest restaurant in Mystic Falls, but doesn’t help her nerves. More or less, at least. Hope’s eyes keep wandering, and she’s not the only one. 

Josie’s noticing all of these things about Hope now. She’s noticing her lips and her hands (god, her hands) and the way her neck moves when she takes a sip of her water. The way she bites her lower lip when she’s intently listening to Josie. The way her eyes sparkle when Josie cracks a joke because Hope is one of the few people who thinks she’s funny, always laughing at her jokes. 

The area around the bar is getting more crowded now, which makes sense because it’s a Friday, but Hope slides her plate over closer to Josie so that they aren’t yelling to hear each other and Josie inhales sharply because it’s not a huge booth, but there really isn’t any reason for Hope to be this close. Josie feels her stomach swoop, definitely not because of the proximity to Hope, no, not at all. 

M.G. comes over a few moments later, a smirk on his face and a red drink in his hand — “Mystic Falls golden couple’s in the house, whoop whoop!” 

Josie almost panics, before she catches herself and grins. “You’ve been spending too much time with my sister.” M.G. sits across from them, sipping on his drink with a shrug, pleased with himself at his joke. Didn’t they ever get tired of them? 

“Jade makes good steak.”

Josie snorts with laughter. “You’d think so.”

“Hope, is Josie the chef for you both, or are you an ace in the kitchen?” M.G.’s eyebrows wiggle comically on his forehead and Josie chances a glance at Hope, whose biting her lip, a smirk threatening to overtake her face. She looks bored by his comment though, as if he could do better and he could, he really could, because it had been three years since they had finished school and nearly two years of the gentle teasing about the nature of their relation — friendship. 

_She’s an ace in other places,_ Josie thinks as she sips her lemon water. She feels a hand on her thigh that isn’t her own and it’s warm and tracing circles, closer and closer to the center of Josie’s legs.

“I save the world a lot, Milton,” Hope says, in a voice that brooks no argument, her fingers dancing along Josie’s leg. If he notices that she’s touching Josie underneath the table, he makes no comment. 

“And,” Josie begins, without a hitch in her voice that she is eternally grateful for because Josie can feel Hope’s nails skate along her thigh over her denim jeans, “I like cooking and I like cooking for Hope, so it works out well.” 

Hope grins cheekily. “This is why I like you the most.” Her fingers are tracing patterns over Josie’s thigh, and even through the material of her jeans, it’s incredibly distracting. 

“Sappy,” M.G. groans. “Sure I’m not interrupting your date, ladies?”

“We’re not —,” Josie begins to protest right as Hope says, “—you can go then, Milton.” 

“Fine, but we’re on for trivia tomorrow night! I refuse to let Jade and Lizzie beat us again. Just because she had ten years in the prison world to read anything and everything, doesn’t mean she has to trounce us _every_ _damn_ _time_. Enjoy, you two!” he says, pointing finger guns at the pair before sliding out of the booth. Josie guessed that Hope would take the opportunity to lift her hand from her thigh, but she doesn’t, even with M.G. gone. 

She takes a bite of her veggie wrap when M.G. leaves, not particularly hungry but definitely needing to do something with her hands because Hope was watching her with eyes that were dark and heavy when Josie turned to look at her. She was the picture of calmness — her other arm bent at the elbow as she leaned against the back of the booth, running a hand through her hair. 

Is this a date? Is this not a date? Was Hope teasing M.G. or did she mean it when she dismissed him so quickly? And that’s not even —Josie doesn’t even know whether she wants this to be a date. Though a date might end with sex, and that’s definitely — fuck, Hope’s hand is even higher on her thigh now. 

She barely makes it through the rest of dinner, which she can’t be blamed for because Hope is pensive, watching her closely. Hope pays, simply because it was her turn and not because it was a date in any way, shape, or form. And as Josie follows her out of the restaurant, she feels on edge, her heart thumping in her ears. 

“Lizzie dropped you off, didn’t she?” Hope asks, glancing over at Josie. “Want a ride?” 

“Uh, yeah — yes, she — yeah, she drove,” Josie rubs the back of her neck to stop her stammering, glancing up at the sky and willing a thunderbolt to strike her down on the spot. Hope directs them down a small alleyway because she knew where the best parking was in Mystic Falls, she always had, and it isn’t until Josie spots Hope’s car just up ahead that Hope tugs on her am with a _Come here, Jo_ , backing herself up into the wall of the alley with Josie at her front.

The kiss takes her by surprise because she always knew that Hope ran warm but her lips are hot and insistent on Josie’s. Josie melts into the feeling, pressing up against Hope and slotting her knee into the center of Hope’s legs with a muttered _finally_ that has Hope smiling into the kiss, even as she deepens it. 

Hope’s tongue moves against her lower lip and Josie moans into the feeling opening her mouth as Hope licks into it. Josie barely registers that they are in a dirty, dark alleyway, completely exposed to any monster, but she can’t bring herself to care in the slightest because god, this is happening again and they’re sober this time and fuck, Hope’s a great kisser.

One of Hope’s hands, which had been grabbing at Josie’s hips, moving under the material of her shirt against her back, reaches up to the back of Josie’s head, grabbing at the nape of her neck, pulling her in for an even deeper kiss. Josie didn’t think it was possible, being this close to Hope again, pressing her into the brick wall with her body, attached at the lips. Josie wraps her arms around Hope’s neck, whimpering into the feeling. 

“I really like kissing you,” Hope says, punctuating each word with a kiss that made Josie weak in the knees. 

“Likewise,” Josie breathes, her head tilted up, giving Hope amble space to kiss and lick down from her jawline to her neck. 

“Is this — are we — Hope, what are we doing?” Josie’s hands are at Hope’s shoulders, grabbing into the material of her jacket and Hope doesn’t stop. The question doesn’t seem to faze her in the slightest. 

“We’re kissing in an alley, Jo.” She presses open-mouthed kisses to Josie’s neck, a moan escaping her lips. 

“Yes, but—,” Josie moans with Hope as she bites on her neck, sucking at her pulse point, the hand she doesn’t have tangled in Josie’s hair gripping into her hips and flexing. 

“Can we leave it at that for now? Because I really want to keep kissing you.” 

Josie thinks about Hope’s question, really thinks about it. Because it’s not like — no, they’re just best friends who like to kiss and fuck and this is totally normal. People do this all the time. Maybe not people like Hope and Josie, but people. In the world do this. This is common. Super common. 

Hope pulls away rather suddenly. “Unless you’d rather not.” There’s a hitch in her voice, and she’s biting her lip. “I mean — we can absolutely go back to normal, if you want.”

Her hand is no longer tangled in Josie’s hair, and Josie definitely doesn’t like where this is going, at all. She pulls Hope closer, bringing their lips together and all thoughts are suddenly gone from her brain. “I don’t want to stop,” she manages, seconds or minutes later, whispered against Hope’s lips.

“We can talk, if you want to,” Hope offers, and she’s so obviously flustered and Josie likes having this effect on her. Likes knowing that she’s affected too. 

She doesn’t really want to talk, doesn’t even know what to begin saying about what they are, what this means. Instead, she slides her hands lower, onto Hope’s back. “I want to keep kissing you,” she whispers, and it seems to be the right thing to say, because Hope smiles against her lips and kisses her. 

When they break apart, even in the dim lighting of the alley, Josie can see that Hope’s eyes are nearly black, pupils blown, her chest rising and falling. She bites her lip, eyes shifting between Josie’s eyes (her pupils no doubt blown as well) to her lips, which must be kiss-swollen and rosy by now. 

“My place?” she asks, and her voice is cracking with desire. It sends shivers down Josie’s spine. Josie can only nod, as Hope pulls her along the alley, determination in each step.

* * *

Josie wakes up the next morning to fingers running down her back absently. Her head is tucked under Hope’s chin, with her arms wrapped around Hope’s stomach and their legs tangled together. She thinks about leaving a few times — five maybe, six at the most — because now it's happened twice and they haven’t talked about it, not really. 

Josie moans into the feeling and the hand on her back stills, moving off of Josie’s skin and down to her hip and Hope clears her throat hastily. 

“Good morning,” she says, belying calm, and Josie smiles. It’s Saturday, there’s no alarm, her body feels deliciously exhausted and she’s waking up with her best friend next to her. 

Which, okay, totally triggered her fight or flight response a few seconds ago, but this is definitely something that she could get used to. And that’s the bad thing about this. Because it’s something she _absolutely_ cannot get used to. 

Because Hope and Josie have always been best friends, will always be best friends. Ever since they were teenagers, it’s always been them, at each other’s side, going the extra mile because that’s what friends do for each other. Hope saved Josie from her darkest impulses, pulling her out of the prison that she had created in her mind and found the loophole to render the Merge unnecessary and Josie was the reason Hope got her memories back after Malivore and was able to come back to her family, to Josie. Hope had been there after everything with Penelope and Josie had been there when Landon had left for the final time, telling her that he still needed to find himself (which worked as an excuse for a bit until finding himself meant finding himself away from Mystic Falls). 

They know each other so well, are each other’s safe space, and that’s why this — the change in what they are, feels so right, like a natural progression of things. Like when you’ve been staring at a piece of art for a while, attempting to figure it out, and the answer falls into place. 

And yet, it isn’t. Because they aren’t together. Because it’s just sex. 

It’s better that way, Josie thinks. Her track record with love is horrible at best and while she knows that Hope’s hooked up with people in the past, no one came after Landon. No one meaningful. 

Josie stretches as she says good morning, nearly disentangling herself from Hope, but not succeeding because of the close grip that Hope has on her waist and the way Hope moves to keep their legs intertwined. Not that she’s complaining. It’s not every day that she wakes up naked in Hope’s massively comfortable bed wrapped around her. 

“Are you hungry? I think I saw some pancake mix in your cabinets that wasn’t expired the last time I was here,” Josie asks, mentally reminding herself not to run her fingers down Hope’s stomach where her hand is resting, no matter how much she may want to. 

“By all means,” Hope whispers with a smile, closing her eyes. Josie just laughs, pulling herself up and stealing one of Hope’s oversized Salvatore hoodies where it lay draped over one of the two armchairs in Hope’s room. 

She had moved back into the Mikaelson mansion after school had ended and had always claimed that it was too much space for one person and that Josie was more than welcome to come over whenever she wanted. Josie had never taken her up on that offer, even if she may have left some clothes here one night after a raucous trivia night or had barged in one afternoon after she had seen the state of Hope’s kitchen, laden with bags and bags of groceries from the local market. It wasn’t like she had a toothbrush at Hope’s place or even a drawer for her clothes. No, that would be _a lot_ , even for them. 

Josie walks quickly down the marble staircase to the foyer, crossing the tile floors to the elaborate, often bare-bones kitchen. This place is too big for two people, too. The extravagant halls and wide windows always make Josie feel like she’s visiting Hope in a museum instead of a home. It lacked the warmth that Josie knew that Hope could make in a space of her own. It needed her art and her vibrance. 

Hope may be great at protecting the school and vanquishing monsters, but she was shit at actually caring for her own well-being. Maybe that’s what all this was about. She needed Josie to take care of her...sexually and platonically. Yeah, that’s it. Friends take care of each other. 

As she pulls open cabinets, Josie can smell Hope all around her and not just on the hoodie that she stole. She’s on her skin and in her hair and it’s calming and intoxicating and all kinds of wonderful. She turns on the radio Lizzie brought over when Hope moved in - “you need entertainment, Mikaelson” and even finds eggs in the fridge. Shocking, truly. (They’re leftover from the last time Josie brought over groceries but better than nothing.) She adds chocolate chips to the batter and hums as she cooks. 

She’s twirling through the kitchen, dancing along to some corny pop song, pancake mix on her cheek, about to flip the first pancake, when she hears laughter behind her and spins around, the spatula held out in front of her. 

Hope raises her hands in mock surrender, grinning at Josie who looked ready to fight, “I was enjoying the show, that’s all. Please continue.” Hope sits at one of the stools at the island, head balanced in her hand as she watches Josie. Josie smiles, can’t help it, because Hope is watching her, clad only in a tank top and shorts, her face free of makeup and faint lines on her cheek from her pillow. She was so damn beautiful. 

Even as she turns back towards the stove, flipping the pancake, Josie can feel Hope’s eyes on her, the searing gaze that makes her feel like she’s on fire. 

“Stop distracting me,” she orders, turning back around, “or I’ll burn this and we’ll have to eat whatever is in your fridge.”

“I’m just sitting here,” Hope objects, but she’s grinning like she knows exactly what she’s doing to Josie. Placing the three finished pancakes on a plate with some sliced strawberries and grabbing the syrup from the fridge, Josie walks over to Hope’s side, depositing the plate before her. Hope spins in the stool, her legs bracketing Josie where she stands, hands on Josie’s hips. 

“Thank you,” she smiles, tilting her head up. Josie watches her, inhaling and exhaling deeply, knowing Hope will register her accelerated heart rate because of her stupid wolf senses. “Are you wearing anything under here?” She asks, a fist grabbing the front of Josie’s hoodie to bring her closer to her. 

“Why don’t you check for yourself?” Josie says, with more confidence that she feels. Thank god she had already placed the plate down, or Hope would end up with a lap of pancakes. Not that that would be a _bad_ thing. It could merit a shower...with Josie...maybe.

“Maybe I will.” Hope answers her with a kiss, which takes Josie’s breath away. 

Her lips are warm, they always are, and the kiss is slow and unhurried. Josie can faintly taste toothpaste but she can also taste sleep, if there was a flavor to that. Sleep and comfort and Hope. Hope cradles Josie’s head with her one of her hands, at the back of her neck, pulling Josie more fully into her, her fist a vice in her hoodie, as Josie grips Hope’s hips, standing between her legs. She feels the heat from Hope, feels herself grow wet because Hope was right, she definitely wasn’t wearing anything under that hoodie. And they really should stop because this is _intimate_ and _domestic_ and all of the words that don’t fit into what they keep doing with each other. 

Josie doesn’t really want to stop, though, because this feels almost too good to be true. Which it isn’t. They’re just friends. Friends who kiss and have sex. Friends who make each other breakfast. Friends with benefits. There’s even a term for it. It’s absolutely normal. 

“You’re going to make me start a fire unintentionally, for once,” Josie says, breathless, forehead against Hope’s, a hand cupped at her cheek. She doesn’t want to pull away from Hope, she wants to stay in this bubble forever. As her hand slides down Hope’s cheek to her chest, she can feel her heartbeat, always so sure and strong, beating an accelerated rhythm of thump-thump-thump. 

“Well, we can’t have that,” Hope replies as Josie tries to spin out of her arms. She pulls her back by the arm, going in for a swift kiss that Josie wants to chase before playfully shoving the siphon away. “Come eat with me, then.” 

So, Josie cooks a few more pancakes for herself, taking a few moments to compose herself while she cooked because damn, that was a hell of a good morning kiss. She sits next to Hope at the kitchen island, trying and failing to hide a smile behind her coffee mug. Hope can’t cook to save her life, but she could make a damn good cup of coffee. And she knew how Josie took her coffee, which was important. More important than most things, Josie thinks. Hope’s leg wanders over to Josie’s stool, hooking around a leg and pulling her seat closer to her’s without a word. 

It’s surprising how easy it is to be like this with Hope. They’re best friends, after all. They’ve had tons of meals like this. Maybe not half-naked, post-coital meals, but that’s a fun bonus that Josie tells herself not to think about too closely. 

Because it’s Hope and she’s Josie. And they’re best friends. That’s all.


	3. Chapter 3

They make it to trivia night. 

On time, for the most part. They get a little bit distracted maybe, and maybe Josie is still a little bit weak in the knees, but they’re only about five minutes late. And her shirt is definitely not on backward, even though it was moments before she stepped out the door until Hope had stopped her. She had left Hope’s apartment after breakfast and gone back to her own, graded papers, and tried hard not to think about that _thing_ that Hope had done with her mouth the night before. 

She failed miserably, of course, and then Hope had shown up looking like equal parts innocence and sin and they were very nearly late. 

Hope’s hand is on her back on the stairs up to Lizzie’s and Jade’s apartment, and Josie leans into the touch. It’s nice. Comforting. Possessive. 

Josie could get used to it. 

Jade opens the door, a smile on her face. “Oh, you’re here already,” she says, “Lizzie should be done any second.” 

“Told you we’d be on time,” Hope hisses, her lips on Josie’s earlobe, igniting her core, and fuck, they’re so not going to win at game night if all Josie things about is pressing Hope against the nearest flat surface and —

“Ready to get your ass handed to you at trivia?” Lizzie speaks from behind her. Josie jumps away from Hope as if burned and the blondes just laugh as Lizzie leads the way into her living room. Josie pulls Catan and Forbidden Island out of her tote bag while Hope dangles a bottle of vodka in front of Jade’s face. 

“Care to make some Bloody Mary’s?” 

“A vampire joke. Original,” Jade sighs, but takes the vodka anyway. Lizzie brushes past her with a kiss to her cheek that leaves Jade’s face pink as she makes her way into their kitchen. They’re cute and clearly so very obviously into each other, even after years. 

It’s nice to see Lizzie happy like this. It’s been ages since they had to pick up the pieces of their lives, years since Josie swept away the ashes of her mistakes, months since Lizzie took shards of glass off of the ground following a breakdown. It’s almost like they’re finally complete. Finally whole. 

Jade finishes the first cocktail with a flourish (and no doubt some vamp speed), handing it to Lizzie, who drops another kiss on her cheek, her body pressing into Jade’s. “We’re still here,” Hope says, “and that’s my vodka. Aren’t I entitled to the first drink?” 

“Do you want to make it yourself? Ten years in the prison world and a whole lotta time on my hands probably makes me the most qualified bartender here. But, by all means —” 

“Lizzie, call off your guard bat,” Josie teases from the living room, joining Hope in the kitchen and bumping her hip against Hope’s. Hope’s arm wraps around her, her fingers trailing down Josie’s arm, to grip her waist, and they’ve always been touchy-feely kind of friends. But this feels different.

Because maybe it was less than an hour ago that Hope stopped by to pick her up to go to Lizzie’s before she took one look at her and slammed her into the wall next to her door, her hands at her waist and her lips on her neck. Because maybe they’re just having sex and it means nothing because Hope doesn’t want to talk about it, but then Hope looks at her the way she’s looking at her right now and nothing else seems that important. 

M.G. lets himself in, followed quickly by Kym who apologizes for his lack of manners and Josie feels her heart swell because these people are her whole damn world, every single one of them, and something about a night with them brings a smile to her face. 

She ends up sharing the loveseat with Hope, pressed a little too tightly together, and Josie wonders if Hope can hear the way her heart rate speeds up whenever Hope’s fingers skim over the sliver of skin on her shoulders when she throws her arm around Josie in thought. 

Josie and Hope, teamed up with M.G., absolutely crush Jade, Lizzie, and Kym in the first round of trivia for the first time ever and the little dance that Hope does when the time runs out and Lizzie groans and throws the clue card is a sight that Josie wishes she had gotten on video. 

Hope gets up after the second round. They're losing badly. “We need more chocolate,” she announces. 

“And popcorn,” Josie adds, pouting up at Hope from the couch. That normally gets her what she wants. 

Not this time. Hope raises an eyebrow and holds out her hand. “Come with me then,” she says. 

Josie gets to her feet, a little disgruntled because all of Lizzie’s furniture is very comfortable. She’s a lot less disgruntled when Hope presses her against the door of the kitchen as soon as it’s closed behind them. She hears a whispered spell, some silencing charm, and then Hope’s mouth is on hers. 

“Sneaky,” Josie smiles, cradling the back of Hope’s head with her hand. She’d known that Lizzie and Hope get competitive during game night, but this side-effect is new. And very pleasant. 

“Stop wasting time and kiss me back, Jo,” Hope breathes, picking Josie up with her arms under her ass and placing her on Lizzie’s counter. “How long does it take to get popcorn?” Josie’s hands move around Hope’s neck to her shoulders, their bodies flush and Josie needs Hope everywhere. 

“No — not this long,” Josie tries to say, her voice breaking because she couldn’t give a shit about trivia or game night anymore. Not when Hope’s hands are burning through her jeans. 

“Better come up with a good excuse then,” Hope says, and kisses her again. Josie pushes Hope away by her shoulders with a laugh, knowing that the only reason Hope takes a step back is because she wants to, not because Josie’s shove could move Hope in any way (stupid wolf strength), and Josie rubs the lipstick off of her mouth, biting her lip to savor the taste of Hope before she waves her hands, magicking up a platter of sliced veggies and hummus.

“What took you so long?” Lizzie says to her, an eyebrow raised as Josie pushes her way out of the kitchen with Hope on her heels holding chocolate bars and popcorn in her hands. 

“Veggies! I wanted something green and leafy after all of these carbs,” Josie says brightly, avoiding Hope’s gaze as she sits down. 

Lizzie’s eyes track from Josie back to Hope as she nods slowly. “Suuuure, Jo.” Yeah, she’s not going to be able to fool Lizzie for much longer. 

“Anyone up for a game of Exploding Kittens?” Hope asks the group and Josie sends a silent thank you her way. Hope answers with a wink. 

They opt, instead, for Catan, and Hope wins the game easily, with a little help from Josie who traded brick and ore with her after Lizzie tried to embargo Hope with help from Jade. Kym and M.G. watch gleefully with popcorn from the couch, because trivia night always descended into a battle of wills between Lizzie and Hope and it was truly a sight to behold. 

After Catan turns into Spyfall and far too many rounds of Forbidden Desert (cooperative games to finally make Lizzie and Hope play night with each other) Hope offers to drive her home, and Josie gladly accepts. She could call an Uber. But she doesn’t — this is better. 

“Come up,” she says, once they’re parked in front of her apartment. _Come up and take my clothes off._ From the way Hope’s eyes flash golden, Josie’s pretty sure that she understands.

“You sure?” Hope asks, and Josie just nods, desire thrumming through her veins. 

“Yeah,” she says, and god, she’s never been as sure of anything as she has of the last few days. Whatever this is, it feels right. Besides, Josie’s thoughts have been very one-track ever since Hope kissed her in the kitchen. 

She’s not the only one, it seems, because Hope’s mouth is on hers as soon as the door of the apartment closes behind them. Josie might never get enough of this, Hope’s full lips pressing against hers, passionate and wanton and like Josie’s everything she wants. 

Hope’s hands tear at her clothes, and she hears the sound of buttons flying to the ground, which must be her shirt. She really couldn’t care less, not with Hope’s hands on every inch of exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Her jeans follow next, before she decides that this isn’t quite fair, tugs and pulls Hope’s shirt over her head, barely breaking their lips apart. 

She doesn’t think she’s ever wanted anyone like this, like she wants Hope, so passionately and desperately. They make it to the bedroom as Josie falls onto her bed, Hope hovering above her. 

A wave of Hope’s hands and they’re naked. Not that Josie didn’t enjoy undressing Hope, pausing at every single article of clothing to stare at Hope with awe because fuck, she was absolutely gorgeous, but in this moment, Josie’s glad she isn’t the only one impatient to move things along. 

Her hands slide over Josie’s body, touching everywhere and it’s not enough. Josie lets out an impatient groan. “Come on,” she urges, and Hope’s fingers slide between her legs. 

Hope’s eyes glisten gold again, a look Josie could definitely get used to. “You’re soaked,” she says, and her voice sounds dangerously close to reverent. 

“Your fault,” Josie moans, arching her hips upward. She wants more. Needs more. 

Hope seems content to take her time, her fingers dancing away from where Josie needs it most to palm at her hips, flipping Josie over so that she lands on her stomach. Hope’s on her again, kissing down the plane of her back, hands grabbing and squeezing her ass, her thighs, pulling Josie back into her so she’s kneeling, her back arched. Hope grabs her by the stomach, her lips and hands absolutely everywhere and Josie can only moan, can only whimper, can only pray that they aren’t loud enough to wake the neighbors. She moans, embarrassingly loud, as Hope’s hands trail up the front of her thighs. Worst case, she can always move. 

Hope keeps her like this for a while, pulling Josie up so their bodies are flush, grabbing and pinching at her nipples, her lips skating over the back of Josie’s neck, kissing and licking a line down her throat. Josie spins at some point, arms thrown around Hope’s neck. 

“We should have left sooner —” she breathes, because speaking is difficult, thinking is difficult, and Hope has wound her up so much that she feels herself dripping down her thighs. 

“And miss the chance to finally beat the blondes at trivia?” Hope jokes but Josie silences her with a kiss, biting and pulling at her lower lip, enough to break skin on any other person but Hope Mikaelson. 

“You — ah, you’re holding back,” Josie says, later, her nails scratching down Hope’s back. Hope had dropped her to the bed at some point, attaching her mouth to Josie’s neck doing wonderful things with her tongue and she’s sure she won’t be able to cover these hickies up with clothing this time. 

“I have three fingers inside of you, Jo,” Hope says, picking her head up to look at Josie’s face, a thumb of her free hand brushing Josie’s cheek with so much care that Josie’s eyes flutter open. Hope’s above her, looking at her with eyes blown wide, wearing a smirk as she tucks a strand of hair behind Josie’s ears. 

“I’m not breakable, Hope,” Josie protests, her eyes nearly unfocused, glancing from Hope’s lips and then back up. She’s never been great at asking for what she wants, but this is Hope, who’s seen her at her best and at her worst and everything in between, and Josie feels safe around her. Feels daring enough to want. To ask. 

“I know, I know,” Hope hums, pulling her fingers out and then back in with so much force and depth that Josie closes her eyes at the feeling, overwhelmed in the best way possible, mumbling _you asshole_ under her breath that comes out strangled in a moan. 

“You did ask for it,” Hope comments, moving down Josie’s body like a wave, her mouth pausing at her breasts before she wraps her lips around Josie’s clit. 

“Oh fuck,” Josie breathes, her hips canting upward and her back arching into Hope’s mouth. She feels a blast of warm air on her clit and Hope’s laughter shakes her body but her fingers stay inside of her, moving in and out. “You _were_ holding back,” she points out, and Hope presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh. 

“I’ll stop,” she promises, and then her mouth is back on Josie’s clit and her fingers are moving rapidly. Josie’s hands are twisted in the sheets and her head is thrown back, and fuck, this feel absolutely amazing. 

She doesn’t last much longer. It’s like her body is primed to react to every touch, every sensation, every swipe of Hope’s tongue and curl of her fingers. Hope’s doing absolutely divine things between Josie’s legs and it’s a wonder she’s lasted _this_ long. But then she can feel the orgasm building and her breath gets more broken, her hips straining higher even as Hope holds her down with her free hand, her voice cracking and breaking on Hope’s name. 

“Are you going to come for me, Jo?” Hope asks, her voice barely a whisper against Josie’s thigh and Josie should glance toward Hope, toward what she knows would be one of the sexiest things to see — Hope between her legs and her mouth dripping with Josie, wearing her well-known smirk. 

She’s too far gone to move, though and can only feel and react to Hope’s touch as her eyes stay closed. She nods weakly.

“Yeah, I’m so —” the rest of the statement is lost in her throat as she feels the wave of pleasure crest and break over her. Hope doesn’t stop though, even as Josie moans louder and louder, carrying her through one orgasm and another. Josie clamps her thighs shut, or rather, she tries to, but Hope holds her down, coaxing her through the second orgasm with only her tongue, the hand that had been inside of Josie sticky and wet on her hip. 

They really should have been doing this years ago.

“Come — come here,” Josie demands, but she knows it lacks any authority. Hope kisses her way up Josie’s body anyway, hovering above her with a hint of a smirk on her face. 

“Someone’s pleased with themselves,” Josie sighs, fingers touching at Hope’s lips. Hope chases them with her teeth, biting and kissing along the digits, licking them before Josie pulls at Hope’s neck to drop down to kiss her. She wraps a leg around Hope’s waist, holding her close, and loses herself to the kiss. 

She’s not quite sure for how long they kiss. The insistence and hunger with which they stumbled to bed has been replaced with a languid calm and Josie wants to spend hours memorizing Hope’s skin, her breathing, the scars on her body and the freckles that adorn her ribcage. She wants to spend days figuring out and memorizing just how to take Hope apart, touch by touch, lick my lick, bite by bite. 

It takes Josie by surprise, because it’s _intimate_. It’s not a quick fuck or a means to an end or a way to get stress out. She kisses Hope and she feels herself throwing her feelings behind each kiss. Behind each touch. She’s spellbound, enraptured, and so damn gone for Hope that she wills the night to slow down, to give her this evening to pour her heart out with her mouth and hands until she has given Hope everything that she has to give.

Hope moans as Josie tugs on her lower lip, and Josie breaks the kiss to flip them. She straddles Hope, takes her in. She’s marvelous, like this, naked and _Josie’s_ , at least for tonight. 

She licks her lips, running her hands over Hope’s body, watching the way Hope arches into her touch. “You’re such a tease,” she says, remembering Thursday night — god, only two days ago — and tonight, the way Hope keeps unraveling her. 

“Look who’s talking,” Hope breathes out, her sentence punctuated by a moan as Josie’s fingers skim over her nipples. 

“I’m going to take my time with you, Hope Mikaelson,” Josie states, running a hand through her hair as her face hovers above Hope’s, barely a hair’s breadth between their lips. “Turnabout is fair play, and all that.” Darkness swirls in Hope’s eyes, nothing like the gold that flashed twice earlier. That was Hope being possessive. Now, this is Hope pensive, turned on, watching Josie’s every movement. 

She kisses Hope again, siphoning from her just enough that she knew it would leave herself and Hope breathless and dizzy, before peppering kisses over her collarbone and across her chest, sucking a mark into the soft skin between her collarbones. It’ll be gone before Josie’s done with Hope, and she’s never despised supernatural healing more. 

She takes her time like she wanted to — figures out how she can elicit moans and low, throaty curses from Hope. It’s always been one of Josie’s favorite parts of sex, learning what someone likes, but it’s all kinds of better now, because she’s learning new things about the person she already knows best in the world. 

Hope gasps out _Josie_ when she sucks on her nipples, and she moans when Josie uses just a hint of teeth and curses when Josie siphons from her while she leaves marks on her skin. She doesn’t know how much time passes, but it’s definitely been a while, Hope’s skin slick with sweat and her hips canting upwards for friction Josie has denied her. Josie shifts them and kneels, pulling Hope into her lap, her ass on Josie’s thighs. She runs her hands over soft skin, watching the way Hope’s chest heaves and her breathing accelerates. Her nipples are swollen and the marks Josie left on her body are slowly fading away. 

Hope’s hands fist in the sheets when Josie scratches lines up her thighs, her back arched. Josie runs her hands over Hope’s ribcage and across her stomach. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, gazing from the long line of Hope’s neck across her body, to the sight of her spread out on Josie’s legs, naked and glistening. Her hips are elevated and she’s so wide open for Josie. 

“Actions speak louder than words, Jo,” Hope teases, leaning up on her elbows. 

Josie grins, because this feels intoxicatingly easy. Being with Hope. She’s also never been all that good at denying Hope, so she doesn’t, sliding a finger inside the tribrid. Hope’s head falls back against the pillows, her hips arching closer to Josie and she lets out a husky moan Josie needs to hear again. She curls her finger, her other hand on Hope’s hip, moving in and out of her. 

She adds a second finger and Hope curses, her hand reaching for Josie’s free one. It’s more intimate than they’ve been with each other, especially when Hope sits up and Josie pulls her more fully into her lap, their bodies pressed together, chest to chest, and fuck, this is a sight she could get used to, Hope’s cheeks flush with color, her breathing ragged, their foreheads pressed together. She presses her thumb against Hope’s clit and her mouth against Hope’s neck, and Hope groans her name, a sound which sends a shock of thrills through Josie. Hope’s lips kiss and bite at Josie’s earlobe but she devolves to curses, the melodic sound of her and Josie’s fingers moving in and out of her the only noise breaking the night. 

Hope’s close, Josie can feel it, and she speeds up the pace of her fingers and kisses Hope, open-mouthed and wanton and wanting. Hope comes with a moan that’s muffled by Josie’s lips against hers, her arms wrapped tightly around Josie, any distance between them gone. Her body shakes in the aftermath and Josie pulls out her fingers, wrapping her arms around her middle, pulling Hope on top of her as they lay on the bed and peppering kisses along her temple. 

“You were holding back,” Hope teases, leaning back to look Josie in the eye after a few long moments. She bites her lip — whether it's out of embarrassment or something else, Josie isn’t sure — but her gaze is searching and Josie allows Hope to look. Allows her to see what Josie hopes is written plainly across her face. 

“I’ll stop,” Josie replies, the _next time_ veiled in her words. Because Hope has absolutely ruined her for anyone else now and Josie can’t think of her life any longer without thinking of Hope, like this, wrapped around her, their hearts beating in tandem. 

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” Hope asks, the shift in the conversation abrupt, but Josie just shakes her head. 

“Good. Because we’re staying up until the sunrise,” Hope smiles and Josie kisses the grin off of her face, hands palming at her cheeks to pull her into her. 

“You’re making me coffee tomorrow,” Josie reminds her. 

“Anything you want,” Hope whispers against her lips, and Josie wishes, just for a second, that Hope’s words were true.

**Author's Note:**

> indulge us with your thoughts and comments, please <3


End file.
